Infinity
by DesolateMoondust
Summary: Ficlets that revolve around Nistrid.
1. breathing space

This takes place after Niska escapes.

* * *

 _I could have loved you._

Its all the permission she needs to trespass the property and make her way quietly into the living room, conscious in the decision to leave the door ajar.

She finds herself standing before the settee, eyes vacantly scanning the cushions upon it.

 _Because to me she is human._

Her body decides then to sit down as she internally digests the activities of the past few days, the whole debacle of the trial, though her thoughts weigh more on the past day or so. Being here was dangerous, however there was no other place she could possibly think of being.

The seagulls were already beginning to chirp, a telltale sign that dawn was about to break. Her left hand subconsciously moves to settle over her right wrist, where her fingers begin to play, trailing ever so softly over the bare skin available there. It was a habit really, a comfort, a pull.

 _This means you're mine now._

In a world of sheer cruelty and uncertainty, there was one thing Niska was sure of was.

Astrid.

The weight of her beloved creeks the staircase, and she looks up, ready, impatient for the view of the only person who has successfully managed to restore faith in her existence.

The door opens and suddenly the world shrinks down to just this one moment. This individual. She hadn't realised she was smiling until the word _hello_ exits her mouth. And to see the smile returned — to sense how the atmosphere is calm and subdued — is everything her world has not been for the last couple days.

It makes Niska believe that maybe, just maybe, there's hope after-all.


	2. night time

She's running low, dangerously low.

The fatigue is kicking in far quicker than anticipated, however uprooting is not an option. It would be suspicious, considering the hour. And it wasn't like she could be discreet and do it here, not with Astrid so close by.

This was a conundrum.

To go or not to go?

She desperately needs to charge after the workout of today; the strenuous activities, the movements, the sounds..

"Niska?" The utterance takes her off guard; she hadn't realised Astrid was awake. Niska also hadn't caught on to the fact that she was actually upright in bed, duvet thrown over to the side with her feet itching to meet solid ground.

And as a result she stills, mute with fear.

Her mind was debating a battle her body had already made a decision on. Wasn't the first time, and wouldn't be the last.

"What is it?" She feels the shift of the bed and the gaze of her.. friend? No, that was too trivial of a title for what they shared. Her.. partner? No, that was too presumptuous. Her..

"What're you doing?" Niska looks away then, ridding her thoughts on the matter as she stands up, setting her body into motion — she needs to act now before her system runs too low.

"I need to go." She retrieves her clothing from the floor and begins to get dressed, one item at a time.

"Now? Its 4am." After putting on her jacket, she turns to meet Astrid's stare.

"I need to take care of something." The pause is pregnant, and for a moment Niska feels sure she has been made — there was no other explanation for leaving Astrid in her _own_ apartment and being vague about the reason why.

Astrid's smart, she would connect the dots.

Only Astrid seems to relax into the bed.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Niska questions curiously, stumped by the answer. This was unexpected to say the least, so she watches Astrid closely, noting her rather contemplative expression.

"Yes. You take care of your something, I'll be here." Her accent thick with exhaustion, and remarkably, acceptance. She watches Astrid roll over in her bed then, marvelling at how easy that had been.

The trust was new, effortless.

"I don't start work until noon." Her feet slip into her shoes and she's ready to go, hand grasping the cable she needs to get to full charge. It hides within her jacket pocket, a secret between them.

The world feels gritty, almost flat. This state of being dull, drowsy, feels worrisome. She almost forgets to respond.

"You can stay however long you want."

"Oh, I intend to," Astrid then turns her head slightly in her direction, "come back when you can."

Its this sleep hazed demand which propels Niska to burn bright, to stand tall with renewed energy, in order to return as soon as possible. She watches Astrid slip into the unconscious world, wishing she could meet her there, but knowing she can't.

So she settles for the next best thing.

"I will."


	3. weltschmerz

This takes place after Niska leaves Berlin.

* * *

 _Astrid_

The call still catches in her ears. It hurts to recount.

It had been so earnest, she almost caved at the request. However looking back now, in hindsight, maybe it was a good thing she hadn't? The outcome would still be the same. She would be here without her..

So it beggars belief really why she was even bothering to try and find her, to make sure she was okay. She had gone back to many of places they had frequent to try and spot sightings of her, without success.

 _Stay_

She knew the signs, recognised them the second she clocked sight of her — didn't stop her from falling, though. How reserved and curious and peculiar. Niska was entirely unique; completely her own. And in the six weeks she had known her, she had come to realise how truly extraordinary she was.

All Astrid wanted was to know her better, to unravel her history and become familiar with her in all her entirety, but Niska rejected her. Pulled away when they were making progress, caught up in her own head to see how fraught with frustration Astrid was becoming at being kept at an arms length.

The small details were fine to begin with, but she wanted Niska to bloom, to come undone. To let her in. There were moments when she submitted information, and they were beautiful but few and far in-between.

 _Please_

"I'm sorry, Astrid, she hasn't come back since you guys came last Tuesday." Ingrid says apologetically, wiping the counter. She's not surprised but her head dips all the same at the lack of news.

"Its no problem." She forces a smile and thanks her friend, ready to be on her way only to stop when she realises she's being spoken to again.

"Hey, Ast?"

"Mm?"

"Whatever happened between you guys, she'll come back." The confidence of Ingrid's words fail to ignite hope in her bones, though. Its been 4 days and counting since she had last seen Niska.

An eternity in her world.

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"Well I would. The girl bought a bed simply because you told her to! If that doesn't scream commitment, I don't know what else does." Astrid shrugs at this, not seeing the connection her friend is making.

"So, its a bed."

"Yeah, but look at the bigger picture here. She had a couch before, right? What does that tell you?"

"Minimalist, temporary—"

"—Exactly. And what does purchasing a bed mean?" Ingrid throws the cloth onto the counter and folds her arms, defiant in her approach. It was positive, and though Astrid could appreciate it, it was everything she wasn't, at least at the moment.

All hope felt like a mirage.

"I don't know? Comfort, long lasting."

"Permanence, Ast. It signifies permanence. You don't buy a bed one week and then decide to uproot the next."

"Well that's what she's done. She's nowhere to be found. I'm pretty sure her apartment is vacant because nobody answers. She's just gone, she.." The lump in her throat swells and she's unable to continue. Ingrid rests her arms onto the counter then and leans over, watching her friend closely with concern.

"You did say she was needed elsewhere? Maybe its time to let it be right now."

"Let it be?"

"Yes. This is beyond your control. The one thing I am sure of though, is that she will come back."

The shake of her head is immediate. It feels draining to be this negative. It doesn't fit her soul but what can she do — its how she feels. For all the light has been stripped from her; she is living in Niska's absence, a desolate existence to the life she once lived.

She never knew she could feel this way.

"How can you have such faith when I don't?"

"I wasn't going to say anything but.. the last time you were both here, she was ordering for you. Terri was serving at the time, and you know how new she is— she got your beverage wrong. And Niska, in all her glory, was fused on the spot when she discovered the white coffee was lacking a special touch of—"

"—whipped cream."

"Mhm. And Terri, bless her heart, she was at the mercy of Niska. You know she ended up getting the drinks on the house because Niska gave her the death stare."

"She knows how much I love my white coffee whipped."

"You know what she loves? You. I saw the way she turned away from Terri with the drinks, her eyes unfeeling, only to see you at the table. I saw the change, Astrid, I witnessed it. The rush of warmth and emotion, you can't fake that. This girl feels for you."

Astrid looks down, feeling the tears prickle her eyes. The gentle squeeze of the shoulder causes her to inhale sharply and look back up.

"You once described her as weltschmerz— that kind of sadness doesn't disappear over night. It's a process. So whatever happened and is happening, she will come back. I'm sure of it."

She nods, its all she can do. She has to believe that Niska will return, that what they had is on pause and not over.

So yes, the call still catches in her ears and it hurts to recount, but Niska had been so earnest, she now wishes she had caved at the request, because looking back, in hindsight, maybe things would have panned out differently. Or maybe the outcome would still be the same. Either way, she can't help but hear the words echo for the umpteenth time:

 _I want you to stay_

And sometimes in her fantasies, she does.


	4. ethereal heart

"And now I'm here." Niska concludes swiftly, eyes dithering from the coffee table to the stale orange curtains; it was now morning with light cascading through the cracks. The silence which follows proceeds to stagnate the room, and it doesn't escape her notice how she once proclaimed _talk is mostly noise_ , but to go from one extreme to the other is proving rather unsettling.

The stillness somehow seems louder.

"Come sit, Niska." She contemplates the request, noting the space beside Astrid on the couch. She wants to, really wants to, but the middle of the room feels safer. Its like Astrid can sense this though for she's gesturing between them.

"No more distance, come here." Its enough to convince her, though the moment she's seated, the quiet resumes. Telling Astrid about everything; David Elster, the synths—her family, the brothel, the reason for the trial, the struggles, all of it, was gruelling but necessary. Regardless of where it may leave them, Astrid was involved now, and deserved to make an informed decision based on all the information.

This was not what she wanted for her, and yet on a selfish level, she was grateful everything was in the open.

"You think now after everything you've told me, I will no longer see you the same." Her eyes snap up to Astrid, captivated by her accuracy. The fear, nestled deep within, is real. It always has been. To bare all the secrets she has, to be burden with them, even in regards to her family, takes a toll.

Its a mental strain on the mind.

Its the gentle grip of Astrid's hand which bridges the darkness she experiences, like embers flashing in the night.

"I told you, there's nothing that could make me like you any less. I wanted to know you, and now I do, so thank you." The swipe of her thumb makes it feel like everything is normal— that everything will be okay, but Niska knows better than that.

This is all a prelude for goodbye.

She's familiar with it, after all. There is no choice, she will have to accept what Astrid tells her. She will have to respect it. And though its bittersweet, she doesn't regret her decision to come here. Knowing Astrid has been one of the most purest experiences she has ever had, and she doesn't wish to forget it, ever.

"The strength you wield— is staggering, but your heart is the strongest thing of all." Its not the direction she thought the discussion would take. It takes her a few seconds to come up with a reply.

"I don't have a heart."

"You do." The insistence causes Niska to look away, confused by the sudden change of topic. She feels the weight on her neck, the demand to look back desperate on her skin, to which she concedes.

"It doesn't have to exist in your body, it doesn't need a heartbeat. Its _you_ , Niska— its who you are." Its like her system forgets how to breathe, for she's lost. Completely lost in Astrid.  
There is peace. Tenderness. Belief in humanity.

Acceptance in being a conscious being.

"All the pain, it won't go away—I know that, its a part of you—but you have a choice, Niska. You choose who you are, what you do next." Its like an echo. Déjà vu. The succession of words haunt her.

 _The pain you feel isn't because of what you are, it's the life you've had. But life can change. You can become better._

It is deep shit. The deepest. The hardest. The most rotten and ugliest. She has laid it out in plain sight, explained and elaborated and remembered. She carries it with her everyday. Its heavy. Its constant. Yet there exists one saving grace, a single human who continues to elevate her beyond reason.

"Niska, Ich liebe dein Herz." The words hit her immediately. The enormity of the moment compels her to close her eyes— its not something she's used to.

To be seen, heard, valued. To be free, to experience, to make mistakes. A lot of the time humans speak for her, over her, at her. Decide for her, gape at her, use her. Other times, its easy to feel invisible, left behind, misunderstood. Always misinterpreted for being angry, cold, unfeeling.

Life is so very complex. There have been so many times where Niska has questioned what the point of it all is.

But then there's Leo, Fred, Max, Mia. The Hawkins family. Astrid.

They have an impact on her identity, especially when Astrid is moving in closer, invading her personal space and caressing her cheek with the utmost care; the most compassion she has ever been shown. The process of breathing slowly returns to her, though oxygen is completely useless. She feels the pressure of stability rest against her forehead, pressing them together to bare the weight of it all.

"Its okay, Niska. Its okay."

And although things are difficult, uncertain. There's something, somewhere in the recess of her consciousness which thinks, believes, _Dr Millican is right._

* * *

Ich liebe dein Herz - I love your heart


	5. unfold

"This reminds me of.."

There have been several times Niska would begin a sentence like this and then stop. The first time it happened Astrid let it go, because everything was fun and light and her insides were burning with joy. The time after that, and after that, and after that still, were beginning to leave distinct marks on her memory. She could now trace them and every single time she grew more curious.

"What?" There would be a brief moment where Niska would contemplate the question, even weigh it out, before making the same resolution as last, and always with a small, knowing smile.

"Nothing."

It feels hollow this time around, more so than she can recall previous times. They've just finished watching a film at the cinema and was heading back to Niska's, so to have Niska suddenly be uncommunicative after the afternoon they've had leaves a distaste in her mouth.

Mulling this knowledge over, Astrid fails to realise a few minutes had gone by in considerable silence, and Niska was actually shooting her questionable glances every so often.

They soon stop at Niska's door, and Astrid can't bare to return her stare. Not right now, not when her mind is going into overdrive. And so with a stunned stillness, Niska retrieves her keys and unlocks her door, gesturing for Astrid to go in first.

Once inside Astrid removes her jacket, though this feels like a mistake in itself. Her head is saying to leave, to put her jacket back on and just go before anymore damage takes place, yet her heart is all too willing, all too open and receptive to Niska's nature.

The apartment has a few items of hers scattered around, she's noticed: old skinny jeans, hairbrush, magazine. The items lay around like they belong there, but do they really? Does she even belong there?

"Astrid?"

"You know, the first few times were fun—it still is fun—but I just need to know if that's all we are?" The question visibly catches Niska off guard, though she recovers well.

"Fun?"

"Yes, Niska, is this just fun?"

"Its not just fun, no."

"An experiment?"

"No." The vehemence behind the answer is welcomed, its a passion she desperately wants to see present in Niska. She knows on some level she's not an experiment, but the confirmation is still good to know.

"Fuck buddies?"

"What—"

"Are we just fuck buddies or whatever you call it— friends with benefits?" Astrid can't quite believe the way Niska is reacting, as if startled by her questioning. It had been numerous weeks, even going on for a month and a bit, so this kind of conversation is required to establish what kind of relationship was taking place.

She didn't want to get the wrong message, after all.

"No, we're more than that."

"How can we be more when all you share with me is your bed?" The reasoning she counters with continues to baffle and irate Niska, for she's moving into the room more, eyes ablaze with feeling.

"Its more than—"

"You keep saying but how is it, Niska? We speak, we connect, and then you shut down. I would like it if you were upfront with me about what this is to you."

"Its.." Its like the words evaporate, Astrid can tell. Niska tries so hard sometimes, and she can tell her past has had a big influence on how she acts and speaks and controls herself. For once, just this one time, she would like for Niska to be honest; to reveal information about herself.

She waits.

She lingers.

She hopes.

A solid minute passes and Niska has yet to finish her sentence; Astrid can't help but feel this is the last straw. The exhale she releases hurts, the movement to the bed and the act of picking her jacket hurts.

The entire moment _hurts_.

"When we're in bed, I feel.." Astrid stops then, unable to look away. Niska is so impossibly delicate— she has never witnessed someone quite like it. To be strong and yet so vulnerable all wrapped up in one. Her grip tightens on the jacket, and Niska must sense it because she's taking a step forward to her, eyes never once leaving.

"You've changed everything." The sentiment hits her. Its romantic, very real. And yet the way its delivered with a steady tone makes Astrid believe this goes further beyond her. How her presence impacts Niska's entire life—a life she is kept in the dark about, and desperately wants to know about.

She wants to know her role in it.

"If this is more, then I need to know more." For a second, she almost thinks she won't. She's asked this before, and Niska already knows what she is asking.

The demand is high and Niska is already on edge, she doesn't like to be made checkmate, so putting her into this position may just be the wrong move to make. Its only when Astrid drops her jacket back down onto the bed that Niska, clearly overcome with her decision to stay, and apprehensive at the prospect of having to share information, finally lets herself begin.

"I grew up in a family of sorts, with siblings; Mia, Fred, Max and Leo. We made it work." Astrid gives her all the breathing space she needs, quiet in her thanks as she sits down onto the bed to get comfortable. Knowing these names already fills her up with warmth, it enlightens her how Niska is important and loved and has people out there who care.

With this kind of breakthrough, she can't regret the direction of this discussion tonight. Not for one minute when its bringing them closer together. She doesn't need a label, doesn't even need to know where this is going, all she needs to know is who Niska is, and how she came to be.

"Earlier when were walking back I saw a book in the window of a store, the picture reminded me of where I grew up. Made me remember one memory where we were playing hide and seek, and I was in the garden, hiding behind this tree—it was Mia's favourite tree—so it makes no sense really for me to hide behind it. When I realised this, it was too late." The smile is so full of melancholy, it makes her heart ache. Yet she watches Niska push through it, the smile soon fading as she moves forward, as if afraid to remain in the moment for too long.

"Only I was not made by Mia, but Max. He was trying to find a hiding place too, and ended up at the same tree. And I remember laughing, and him laughing. And then we were found for real this time." Astrid can't help but reach out and grasp her hand to hold between her own, desperate to touch her.

For such a lovely story, its filled with so much sorrow.

"I miss them. I decided to leave, to come here, but I miss them."

"I'm sure they miss you, too."

"I wouldn't count on it." Her gaze is confident, absolutely certain, but Astrid knows she is wrong. She feels it in her marrow, and tugs on Niska's hand.

"I would," Astrid breathes out, pulling on her hand again and drawing Niska closer, "come here". She doesn't allow her eyes to close until Niska settles on her lap, and she has her arms wrapped around her lower back. And though she doesn't have sight to guide her, she relies on her other senses to lead her back to where she's needed most— its always a sweet endeavor, she finds, one she chases with resolve and excitement.

For foreplay produces the best results.

And so it doesn't take long for breath to hit her face and for lips to search blindly in the dark, until they press assuredly together in a firm yet tender kiss. It soon progresses into a whirlwind of short, ardent pecks until she feels her break the exchange. The air is hot and fast and she feels dizzy but so glad for being alive with Niska in this moment. The power of their connection strikes her to the core; a conviction she's never prepared for but which she welcomes wholeheartedly when it does.

As time continues, Niska leans forward and nuzzles into the crook of her neck, and its like the world has righted itself.

For now this is enough.


	6. intro

She's here again.

The first time Astrid noticed her she had only glimpsed her in passing, that was Tuesday night. Now it was Friday, and she couldn't take her eyes off of her.

"Astrid, hellooo?"

"Sorry Anna, I was just—"

"—ogling that girl for the umpteenth time, I know." She rolls her eyes at the remark, quick to return her attention back to her friend, who was far too smug for her liking.

"You're not gonna pull any of these girls if you focus on the redhead all night."

"Who said I want to pull any girls?" The response she receives from Anna comes in form of a swift head tilt, a signature move she's used to, however the accompanied slow blinking only serves to make Astrid groan loudly, though the music from the club easily drowns it out.

"Its been a while since you've put yourself out there."

"I'm over Luisa. Now stop bringing her up, its been like eight months."

"I'm not bringing her up, you are."

"Reverse psychology may work on your patients Anna, but not on me. I know what you're trying to do." Her arms cross over her chest while she waits at the bar, desperate for a drink. She definitely was gonna need one if she was going to survive the night with Anna and her pity—pandering—party.

"I'm just saying; you're so full of life, you should share it with someone." Astrid takes in the words, and leans against the bar, facing the crowd headfirst. It was a good night. People were having fun—she was having fun for the most of it—but Anna made an interesting point. Its not that she was lonely, she didn't mind being on her own. It was just life was happening around her and she didn't quite know how to fit in. It was hard enough figuring out what she wanted to do in life and finding a way to work towards that, let alone finding somebody on the same trajectory and figuring out to be with them.

The way she sees it, there's no rush.

All there is, is now.

"I will, when I'm good and ready." Her gaze falls upon the redhead again, watching as the strobe lights bounce off her, the colours exploding all over her face— a mesmerising sight.

She quickly tails a man approaching her, conscious on some level she wasn't the only one admiring, and so wonders how she will react to his advances. The guy slithers up beside her, and its almost as if she wasn't aware because her response is pretty non-existent, for she remains still, head facing up to the ceiling.

The guy however leans in close to whisper something into her ear, and it makes for comedic timing, for its the exact moment the redhead moves out of the way. The guy as a result looks ridiculous as he loses his footing and stumbles a couple feet until he manages to find some balance. She seems to linger for a moment, contemplating what just happened before storming away into the direction of the restroom. Astrid can't contain the snicker at baring witness to the worst burn she has seen in ages.

"Good and ready meaning to mind my own business? Got it. I won't speak about this again." She hadn't realised she had spaced out until Anna was beyond exasperated with her, so she pushes herself away from the bar and straightens up.

"Anna."

"No no, its fine. I'm just gonna hit the restroom, get me a drink whilst I'm gone." The semi-sulk doesn't go unnoticed by her as she watches her friend stalk off— she's gonna have to make that a beer with a shot of Jägermeister.

Fortunately she doesn't have to wait long until she's being served and orders the same round for herself. She quickly downs the Jägermeister and decides to take some healthy sips from her beer whilst she waits, nodding to the music.

"That girl is insane, you shouldn't go near her." The voice jolts her from her trance as she picks up Anna's drink in reflex, to which her friend gleefully accepts. She at least waits for her to take some mouthfuls before asking questions.

"What?"

"Okay, maybe she's not insane— that was too strong of a word, but she's not completely sane! She was mumbling to herself standing by the sink. When I went to wash my hands, she looked at me the entire time until I was done. It was awkward." She watches Anna quickly retrieve the Jägermeister and down it.

"Also, she's British."

"British?"

"Mhm." She watches Anna drop the shot down onto the bar and pick back up her beer. She instinctively clinks her own with Anna's before taking a few more sips. She doesn't want to get pissed for she has work tomorrow afternoon, however she does want to have some fun.

She notices the redhead back where she started, standing near the speakers — either the girl was brave or completely deaf, either way it made her want to go over there and say something, just a few words of hello.

The sigh which leaves her must be contagious for Anna is exhaling too, having just finished off the beer.

"I really needed that, thanks. Now lets dance! Next round will be on me." Anna goes to pull on her, but she shrugs it off and indicates to the still half full beer in hand, which Anna shakes her head at and mouths 'weakling'. She indicates with her thumb before she's off on the dance floor.

"See you out there!"

Her eyes catch the flash of red hair which is disappearing fast, and that she wishes would stay. She watches until the woman exits the club, and though a big part of her wants to go after her, to make sure she is okay, she knows that she won't.

All she hopes for is that she will be back again soon.


	7. crystalised

Berlin was such a big place.

Historical, vibrant, everything that a holidaymaker would love to explore.  
Niska however was on a different kind of mission, having just left the Berlin Cathedral, she was en route to her next destination, Marx-Engels Forum.

It was impossible to avoid the groups, though the open environment made it so everyone would have enough space between each other. One particular ensemble, a woman with two children, were close by as she stopped to stare at the statues before her.

"I want a beard, mummy!"

"You can't have one because you're a girl."

"Shut up, Adam! I wasn't talking to you. Mummy, I want one; they look fun and I wanna stroke it — its not fair that daddy gets to grow a beard and I can't."

"Honey, I know you want one but you can't grow a beard, maybe we can—"

"—well I'll buy one!" It was hard to ignore the scene when it was happening literally in front of her. She watches the small bundle of energy, who can't be more than 5, stomp over to a nearby bench and sit down.

"Adam, did you have to behave like that to your sister?"

"The sooner she realises she's not allowed to, the better."

"Now that's where you're wrong. Just because she's biologically unable to grow one herself doesn't mean she's not allowed one. What's gotten into you?"

"She'll look stupid with a beard, she's a girl."

"You know, when you were small, you wanted a Barbie doll to play with instead of Hot Wheels. Do you know what your father said?" Niska watches the young boy, several years older than his sibling, gawk at his mother, shaking his head.

"He put your Hot Wheels into your toy box and took you to the store and said to get whatever you wanted, because he'd be damned if his son wasn't happy in his own skin. Do you know what I said when I found out?" Niska's fingers begin to curl, forming into fists inside the pockets of her jacket. The boy once again shakes his head.

"I said the same thing as you said to your sister; that you can't have one because you're a boy. Just because the world teaches you one thing, Adam, doesn't mean its always the same for everyone else. And sure, maybe after we leave the park she'll forget all about it but if she doesn't, if she wants to wear a beard, however silly and stupid it may seem, she will. Gender isn't fixed, Adam."

"But its a _beard_."

"But its a _Barbie_ _doll_." The silence between them almost makes Niska want to leave. Its uncomfortable and not what she wants, yet she remains stock still, feeling the need to find out how this ends.

The boy looks forlorn, kicking the ground.

"What happened to Barbie doll?"

"You broke it; said it was boring and played with your Action Man instead. And that's okay, because you had the choice." The boy sighs exasperatedly, tearing his eyes away from the ground to look directly at his mother.

"I get it. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she had a beard. Though maybe keep it on the downlow, not at school, because that wouldn't be cool, mum." The mother giggles, bumping her shoulder against his before placing an arm around his shoulder to guide him away.

"No, it wouldn't. Now come on, lets apologise to your sister and go meet up with your father."

And even though Niska watches them go; huddle around the girl, hug each other from a far and then exit the park, something lingers. Whether its the conversation which took place, or the strange family itself, she can't quite put her finger on it. Its an energy. A shift.

She's cataloguing all this information, all these peculiar experiences humans have, and for what? Its not like the code was successful. She had uploaded it last Wednesday. Nearly a week had passed and no signs of a world coming to life with conscious synthetics.

The thought occurs to her, how it may be for the best, for humans barely have it together at all; they are a perpetual work in progress; to do better, to try better, to be better. To be accepting and open and forgiving and brave. Yet they fall short, time and again. They do terrible things, repeatedly.

Humans are unreliable.

"Ah, still seeking boring white men company, I see."

At the sudden voice, she turns to take in Astrid's appearance.

It does make her wonder why she kept the napkin Astrid gave her, why she dialled her number, why she arranged to meet. It does, however, take a moment for her to realise that this was not where they were supposed to meet. As a result, she raises an inquisitive brow, watching Astrid gesture blatantly past her.

"This is the shortcut to Brauhaus Georgbraeu." The appraisal doesn't stop there for Niska continues to stare at Astrid, trying to figure out the surge of elation within. She infers it must be her system playing up, and that she will power up later tonight when she has time.

Astrid offers a small smile, clearly unbothered by the assessment.

"Its good to see you."

"And you." The smile blossoms upon hearing her words; eyes dilating along with her heartbeat which becomes slightly elevated. Niska exhales at the performance before her.

"Shall we?" She nods in response and follows Astrid, who begins to walk down the path.

* * *

It was a rather mild, late afternoon, so they were sitting outside with their beverages, browsing the menu leisurely in comfortable silence. There were a few others around, but the atmosphere was relaxing, filled with hushed tones.

Niska notices Astrid peering over the menu, and so decides to pick up her glass and feign a sip. Astrid, once realising she has been made, drops it down to the table.

"So, what have you been up to?" Placing the drink down, Niska mulls over how to respond. Clearly the truth was out of the question, considering that would unearth an abundance of information Astrid's not ready for, and may never be ready for. It may be something Niska will have to omit for however long they—

"Really, going to leave the conversation to me? This is starting to feel a lot like a monologue." Though mostly sarcastic, Niska senses some tension emitting from her based on the way her lips meet in a tight, closed smile.

Keep it casual, vague.

"I've been a tourist, as one does exploring a foreign country." The soft exhale from the brunette makes Niska reconsider her approach. She dislikes seeing Astrid like this, especially as she is the one to ignite the action. The unfocused eyes on the menu and nervous tap of her thumb against it has Niska reevaluating her method, willing herself to say something meaningful.

"I bought a bed." The movement on the table stops, and Astrid looks back up, eyes full of feeling, though its hard to distinguish what, exactly. The steady gaze is enough permission to keep going.

"Figured comfort is worth investing in." Its not lost on her how Astrid's eyes flutter down and up several times, until a satisfied sound reverberates in her throat.

"Mm. I'm not hungry. Walk with me?"

* * *

Walking from Spreeufer up to Burgstraße alongside the river, Niska eyes the boats sailing by. Its approaching evening and Niska has to admit, it was turning into a nice one. The crowds were dispersing, the traffic morphing into background noise, and the environment sombre.

Niska counts two separate times their hands come to graze each other as they walk side by side. It was a feeling she enjoyed, and which elicit certain memories to mind.

"Lets sit." She almost doesn't hear Astrid's request having been so immersed in her own thoughts, but she follows her onto the small patch of green, eyes absorbing trees and the quiet spot chosen. Her body sits accordingly, though she flexes her legs out in hopes of portraying normal human posture, conscious of spatial awareness.

She rests her hand down onto the grass, and her fingers curve slightly at the sensation. She's reminded of Mia, and how she admires paintings, especially ones containing landscapes. Fields upon fields upon fields. The open space. Even memories spent growing up with Leo, and exploring the home, the boundaries, the expanse of green. Mia loved to be outdoors.

She realises that Astrid's hand is close, the proximity so near the urge to grasp her hand becomes unbearable. To want somebody is taking some getting use to, for all Niska has known thus far is being wanted. Having a choice in the matter is new ground—even ground—which she doesn't fully trust quite yet.

 _Human communication:  
Language is just the top level  
then theres all the stuff you try to say with your body.  
Then you get into the deep shit  
everything you're trying not to say  
in the space between words and looks._

She recalls the particular memory with perfect clarity, its one she's replayed a few times. Dr George Millican still haunts her from time to time— he had saved her life, after all; and she's in-debt to him. Sometimes the pull of guilt can be so great that all the light of the world dwindles to a mere flame.

To be human is so much more than flesh and bones, blood and vessels.

The touch of fingers, delicate and sure, trace the back of her hand. It forces Niska to focus on what exists now, what matters in this realm. After a beat, she feels her fingers lock with Astrid's, fused together firmly. Neither has to say anything, it just is — the volumes ripple in the space between them.

Niska loses herself in the moment; completely consents to it, unable to concentrate on anything but the grasp. She can't help but to look at Astrid, wondering what she is thinking, feeling, whether she is experiencing similar things. What she witnesses is Astrid admiring the water, the open air, the world around them.

Its interesting to her, how seeing Astrid in certain environments can evoke different responses. Her behaviour at the club, though daring, was assured and mindful. And when she danced, she was in her element; graceful, gorgeous, attentive. Their night at her apartment was singular. Never had she been intimate and bare with someone as she was that night. And then the following morning, waking up on the couch, Astrid was still so connected, confident and open. No sign of awkwardness. Even when they went to the café later that afternoon and shared philosophical discourse; it was authentic, riveting.

Every instance of Astrid has and continues to be a revelation, a delight in how truly genuine she is: a complex, layered soul which speaks to her very own on a level she has yet to fully establish herself.

Niska turns her attention back to the sky, watching the blue fade out; the colour losing its strength—its always curious to watch. The squeeze of their conjoined hands makes her smile a little.

"It just drains, you know? Forms into something else and never quite returns in same shade. No one sunset is the same." Niska looks to Astrid then, amazed by how this person came to exist; how she can behave so brightly and sound so very in-tune with the world and her own sense of worth, it makes her question.

"It moves you?"

Astrid finally tears her eyes away from the dying day and concentrates on Niska, a small chuckle erupts deep within.

"It makes me feel, yes."

"Why?" Astrid takes a moment to weigh the question. It feels eternal, and as she waits, she notices their hands shift, and she is drawn to look down. She watches as Astrid runs her thumb over her skin; the gesture is gentle, measured, as if there is all the time in the world. When Niska looks back into her eyes, she finds Astrid never left.

"Why does anything make us feel? It just does."

"I like the way light catches your face." The words are out before Niska can evaluate them, and she's glad, for the joy it generates in Astrid is beyond comprehension.

"I suppose I'm not the only one moved."

For a moment the reply staggers her, unable to understand the meaning— her system failing to piece it together. However when it does she hasn't time to react, for Astrid is already eliminating the gap and capturing her lips in a very tender kiss. She hasn't even time to close her eyes or reciprocate before Astrid is drawing back, her body quick to intake air softly only to exhale deeply.

"I hope you don't mind, I had to kiss you." The impressions of when they were last together flood her mind, over and over.

She doesn't mind in the least.

"What I said that night still stands; I'll let you know when I don't want this." There's a knowing glint in Astrid's eye, one which excites her.

"Good, because I believe there's a bed that needs to be broken into."


	8. shelter

Staring at the familiar brick wall, Niska basks in the afterglow. Astrid had long since gone to sleep, leaving Niska to ponder with her thoughts. They had snuggled for a while, enjoying the sated experience before deciding to detach from one another and provide some space to breathe.

Niska doesn't mind, though; she prefers distance in order to regroup her thoughts.

The minutes feel like seconds except they turn into hours.

"You're so soft."

Niska blinks at the sound, happy that Astrid is awake, yet she has yet to reach out and touch her. She doesn't dare initiate contact first, no matter how much she wants to turn over in the bed and kiss her.

Its been quite a number of weeks now, enough for Niska to know she cares for Astrid. Really, truly cares. More than she has for anybody she can think of, aside from her family, of course. There's no ownership involved, rather running on something quite in-explainable. Whatever this flow of connection is, its seamless.

So Niska could lie right now — she could for that's what she's been doing up until now — though she would rather view it as omitting the truth than deceit. Her eyes close upon contemplation, for aren't they one of the same?

Her focus returns when delicate fingers trace over her shoulder blade; maybe some honesty would not go amiss?

"I woke up like this." The chuckle is not something she expects to receive, and she hasn't really time to respond, for Astrid is splaying her fingers across the expanse of her back, quick to voice her reply.

"Flawless."

"I wouldn't say that."

"No, its.. Nevermind." She turns around then, twisting her head to catch the remnants of a smile, wishing she understood the meaning behind it. Instead she leans forward, embracing Astrid, the desire to kiss her suddenly overwhelming. Clearly the move wasn't anticipated, for it takes Astrid a moment to reciprocate, slow to awake her motor skills.

Their lips lock together in a passionate exchange, hands desperate to quell the itch within, the need to explore and devour flesh.

"You say I'm soft," Niska recalls breathlessly, trailing her lips over Astrid's neck before biting the skin before her, "I think you're mistaken." The moan is enough to make Niska want more, making her descent to her shoulder blade, then to her chest and down still, that is until a shrill sound interrupts the moment.

"Ah crap, its the alarm." Astrid squirms away, batting at the alarm clock on the side. Niska settles back, wondering how the alarm came to exist in her flat when she never purchased one. Looking around the room, she notices a few objects not belonging to her, in-fact.

"I have to get up, I have an early shift." The begrudging tone of her voice is enough to shake Niska from her reverie and focus back on the woman climbing out of bed.

"No, you should stay." She moves to the edge of the bed, raising an arm to rest on Astrid's side, only to second guess at last minute and hover hesitantly in the air. Astrid leans into the touch, and settles temporarily into Niska, stealing a moment before the madness begins again.  
Niska doesn't want for it to end, though.

The frown causes Astrid to snicker lightly, and caress her cheek in hopes of making her feel better.

"I wish I could, but I need to pay the bills and this job helps to do that."

"But you stay here most of the time."

"While this is true, I still have an apartment to pay for when I'm not here." The tiny kiss Astrid leaves on her nose makes Niska's face contort before she decidedly looks away, bashfully.

"I will be back later." Astrid steals another kiss before removing herself from Niska's arms, stepping away with a spring in her step. It however dulls when she hears the quiet query muttered in the room.

"You promise?" Niska's not sure what prompt her to ask, maybe its because she can't stand to be away from her for too long. Maybe its some deep-seated guilt at having not revealed any ounce of truth to her, and fearing she will lose her as a consequence?

Or maybe, just maybe, its because the world is harsh and Astrid is a sanctuary in the midst of it all.

Astrid returns to the bed, her eyes rich with sincerity. There is a delicacy to the moment which she appreciates and laps up, earnestly.

"I promise."


End file.
